


Hackles Raised (Combat the Nightmares)

by The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea



Series: MH [2]
Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: ADHD, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autism, Canon Autistic Character, Codependency, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Neurodiversity, OCD, Psychosis, Queerplatonic Relationships, neurodivergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23771986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea/pseuds/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea
Summary: Jay is struggling. Brian ponders.
Relationships: Jay Merrick/Brian Thomas/Timothy "Tim" Wright
Series: MH [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707394
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Hackles Raised (Combat the Nightmares)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptidhearted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidhearted/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the unpayable debt that i owed you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269385) by [cryptidhearted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidhearted/pseuds/cryptidhearted). 



> me and n: *pinging one brain cell back and forth at rapid speeds*
> 
> The knocking at the beginning is inspired by another fic linked above. Go read it!

Tim curls on his side, one hand over his cheek as if grasping for the edges of his plastic face. His heart pounds like the fist against the wall, knuckles knocking themselves bruised and perhaps even bloody with the force of it. 

For Jay, it’s akin to pressing on a day-old bruise to check whether or not it’s healing. He knows it’s called a compulsion, but those three syllables weigh hard and heavy on his mind. 

He’s been diagnosed since he was thirteen, on and off meds since he was seventeen. When he’s on the meds, everything feels blurred. When he’s off them, the clarity returns, and with it, the obsessions and compulsions come back too. Tonight is particularly bad for no good reason; usually he can count on it waxing and waning with his stress levels. 

He doesn’t really have a reason to worry right now. He’s got a shitty job at the local pawn shop. It’s a ghost town; even with the highest level of foot traffic, only about three people will be in line at once. Turns out not many people are in the market for crappy old watches and broken necklaces.

He tries not to think too much about how he’s the steward of broken, forgotten things. It feels a bit too much like an inescapable truth, something buried deep in his bones.

An animal snarl on the other side of the room. Brian has elected to sleep in Jay’s room for the past few nights. Well—sleep implies that he’s actually resting. Instead he sits up like some gargoyle, poised to attack, teeth bared and barren. Suffice to say, he doesn’t like it when Jay refuses sleep. If he knew Jay was supposed to be on meds... He’d become such a mother hen, in his weird way. He’s the biggest mother hen of them all, whether he’s himself or his alter, Hoody, is fronting. 

For now, it’s Hoody; Brian can tell because he keeps pulling at the hood of his favorite black sweatshirt in a nervous stim. The snarling instead of talking is also a big clue. Jay doesn’t mind, he loves his boyfriends in every way, doesn’t care that they’re all fucked up in their own special ways.

Brian—no, Hoody—stands up and comes over to Jay, his left leg dragging against the floor in a limp. Jay’s been having him use a cane during the day alongside a leg brace. Fuck that cop who shot him when he was behaving erratically, really.

In a moment, Hoody is curled up around Jay protectively. “Hey,” he says gruffly. His voice is much deeper than Brian’s, raspier.

Jay curls into the familiar fabric of the well-worn hoodie. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I can’t stop.” He doesn’t want to, he amends mentally, but Hoody doesn’t have to know that.

Hoody, same as Brian, is a big fan of physical touch to calm Jay down. With Brian, it’s all spooning and cuddles and gentle touches to the curve of Jay’s wrist, a kiss dropped onto Tim’s unwashed hair. Hoody is more about leaning against Jay, like a wolf seeking comfort and giving it in return. 

Jay loves it. He’s only really comfortable with his boyfriends touching him, and they’ve discussed when Jay is too overstimulated for touch. Right now, it grounds him to the point where he rests his knuckle against the wall silently, ceasing the knocking. He can almost hear Tim’s sigh of relief. 

“‘S okay, Jay,’ Hoody murmurs. His breath tickles Jay’s ear and he flinches a bit, and Hoody moves his mouth so he’s not breathing too lightly on Jay. “Go to sleep. I’ll protect us.”

You can’t, Jay thinks. They’re not protected without Jay’s little rituals, the numbers a talisman. But he’s completely exhausted. Panic attacks hit him the hardest; he has a tendency to feel his symptoms somatically. A headache here, an upset stomach there, a migraine, tensed muscles. Right now though, all he can feel is a vague ache in his throat. 

—Oh. He’s crying.

Stiffening beside him, Hoody makes a soft upset noise. He needs to guard Jay. Needs to help him. But how can he fight against Jay’s head, the compulsions ingrained in his brain? 

He tightens his arms around his boyfriend. “Shh.” Deep pressure always seems to help Jay relax, same as Tim. Something pings in the back of Brian’s mind at that, but he shelves it for now. Comforting Jay is more important than musing about Jay. 

After a few minutes, Jay relaxes completely, exhaustion taking him over. The poor guy needs the sleep desperately, so Hoody stays where he is. He bares his teeth silently at Jay’s nightmares and flinching whimpers—till the morning, he stays.


End file.
